


One Year of Love

by RushingHeadlong



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Birthday Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Picnics, Stargazing, Trans Male Character, Trans Male Reader Insert, brief mentions of dysphoria and binding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:06:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28370604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RushingHeadlong/pseuds/RushingHeadlong
Summary: Your first anniversary with Freddie is quickly approaching, and you know that you don’t have the money to spoil him with the lavish sorts of gifts that he deserves. But with a little help from a friend, you realize that you don’t need to buy his love and you instead set about creating an evening that the two of you will never forget.
Relationships: Freddie Mercury/You
Kudos: 6





	One Year of Love

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr (@RushingHeadlong) for the A Night at the Fandom gift exchange. This was my first time writing Freddie, and the fic has not been edited before posting here.
> 
> As with all my Freddie/Reader fics, this features a male reader insert and specifically a trans male reader insert.

Freddie Mercury is, without a doubt, the best thing that’s ever happened in your life.

It had taken some time for you and Freddie to settle into each other and into the relationship. Freddie, burned too many times in the past, was hesitant to open himself up and risk getting hurt again. And you, unfortunately enough, had been a Queen fan long before you lucked out and actually crossed paths with Freddie. You were never quite starstruck, in the true meaning of the word, but you were afraid that you wouldn’t be able to live up to his standards. 

That was nonsense, of course, and you certainly know that now. The real Freddie is sweet and shy. He adores his cats and his friends, and is always kind to the people around him. Even with his diva moments he’s never vicious or cruel. You feel privileged to be counted among the few that he loves and trusts, and you know you’re truly lucky to have found a partner as loving and dedicated as Freddie is. He makes you laugh, and comforts you when your dysphoria feels overwhelming, and always seems to know what to say to reassure you and make you feel better about yourself. 

By now both of your initial reservations are gone and it feels like you’ve known each other forever, even though your first anniversary is still a few weeks away. And it’s that anniversary that’s the root of your current problem, and the cause of the stress headache that’s been building at your temples over the last several days. 

“What am I going to do, John?” you moan, the effect slightly ruined by the fact that you have your head buried in your arms on the table, your abandoned tea growing cold in front of you. “He can buy whatever he wants, and whatever he doesn’t get for himself other people have probably already bought for him! I can’t compete with that!”

“Then don’t try to compete,” John suggests, taking a sip of his own drink. 

“But then I don’t have _anything_!”

Because the thing is, you don’t come from money. You have a steady job which pays enough for you to live comfortably, but you don’t have any delusions about being able to buy a suitable anniversary gift for Freddie. It makes you uncomfortable, sometimes, when Freddie drops enough money on a single date to pay your entire _rent_ for a month, but you’ve come to accept that Freddie will always spend money like that. 

You have a much harder time accepting that you can’t reciprocate, especially when all you want to do is hand Freddie the world on a silver platter. 

“Well, what did you do for his birthday?” John asks, with the patience of a saint. “Or Christmas, for that matter?”

You feel your face grow hot with embarrassment. “I had an artist friend of mine paint a portrait of Freddie with his cats for Christmas,” you admit, a little sheepish. Freddie had seemed to like it, and he does having it hanging up in the bedroom at Garden Lodge, but you know that it’s a silly gift and you wait for John to laugh at it. 

To your surprise, he doesn’t. “That’s actually a really clever idea,” he says. “Everyone knows the way to Freddie’s heart is through his cats. What about his birthday?”

“Nothing.” You were short on cash at the time, and in fact had picked up an extra shift the night of Freddie’s party just so you could pay your bills for the month.

 _That_ gets John raising an eyebrow. “Nothing? Literally nothing?”

“Well, I surprised him the morning of his birthday with cupcakes…”

“And what was his response to that?” John presses when you don’t immediately continue. 

You shrug. “He seemed happy with it.” 

You still remember the look on his face when he came downstairs and saw you waiting there. His smile was bright and wide, and for a moment he was so overjoyed to see you that he didn’t even think of hiding his teeth. The two of you sat in the garden, eating cupcakes for breakfast and laughing at some of the more ridiculous things that Freddie had been gifted by others, until you had to leave for work and Freddie had to start getting ready for his party. 

“Well, that’s the answer then, isn’t it?” John leans back in his chair, as if satisfied that the matter is finally settled, though you’re still as clueless as you were when the conversation started. 

“I’m not following you.”

“What do both of your previous gifts have in common?” John asks. 

“That they were kind of shit?”

John sighs. “No, that’s actually opposite of what I’m trying to get at here.”

“Then why don’t you just tell me what you mean instead of making me guess,” you say, a little snappish now that your patience is worn thin. “If I wanted cryptic answers I would’ve gone to Brian for help instead of you.”

“No you wouldn’t have,” John says with a laugh. “If you were going to talk to anyone about this besides me it would’ve been Roger.”

There’s some truth to that, if only because Roger was probably the closest to Freddie and would have the best idea of what sort of gifts would suit his taste. But there was a very good reason why you went to John for advice instead of Roger, besides the fact that he had become a genuine friend of yours over the last year. “That implies that, one, I would want to take relationship advice from Roger and, two, that I could be sure he wouldn’t slip up and say something to Freddie on accident.”

John laughs again. “Fair enough. Listen, Y/N, between you and me you’re the best boyfriend Freddie’s had in a good while- or possibly ever. He doesn’t want you to spend a fortune on him. He doesn’t want a thousand trinkets that will just gather dust around Garden Lodge. He wants _you_.” 

“But I can’t even afford to take him out on a fancy date-”

“Y/N,” John interrupts. “He doesn’t need fancy. You’re forgetting that just because he has money _now_ doesn’t mean that he’s always been loaded. He knows how to appreciate the simple joys in life, even if he likes to act like he doesn’t. Clear an evening, make him dinner, and just spend time with him. I promise he’ll love it.” John pauses for a moment, and then adds, “He might also want more paintings of his cats, but that’s irrelevant to the point at hand.”

You can’t help but laugh at that, and you’re grateful that you have John as a friend. Even if you’re not entirely convinced that his plan is the best, at least by the time he finally leaves you’re in a slightly better mood than you were before. Your anxieties are still there, and you hate that you’re this insecure of your place in Freddie’s life after a year of dating, but you at least feel better equipped to face the situation head-on.

And, with few other options and time quickly running, you’re eventually forced to admit that John may actually have a point about keeping things simple. You still want to do something slightly more special than a dinner date at home, but after a few more secret conversations with Freddie’s friends and bandmates you begin to put together your plan. 

It’s a few days after your secret conversation with Deaky that Freddie broaches the subject of your anniversary with you. “Were you able to get the day off work, dear? I made reservations for both lunch and dinner, and booked us a… Well, I can change the dates if you need me to, just say the word.”

Freddie is matter-of-fact about his plans, with no resentment over the possibility of postponing your anniversary celebration. Although he’s offered, on several occasions, to support you if you ever wanted to quit your job, he understands why you won’t do that and has come to accept that scheduling conflicts are inevitable in your line of work. 

Still, when you tell him, “Actually, I was able to get the day off,” his face immediately lights up. Despite your nerves about what seem to be his fairly extravagant plans, you can’t help but smile and lean in to kiss him gently. “I love when you’re excited about something. You always look so adorable,” you murmur against his lips. 

You can feel him smile against you, his moustache tickling your upper lip as it moves when he says, “Adorable? Really, dear?”

You laugh, and kiss him again. “Yes, really! Adorable-” Another kiss. “-and beautiful-” And another kiss. “-and some might even say breathtaking-”

You kiss him again and this time Freddie deepens it, one hand coming up to gently cradle the side of your face. You sigh into his mouth and relax into the kiss, content to spend the rest of the evening snuggled up against Freddie and lazily making out with your boyfriend if that’s what he wants, and you’re a little disappointment when Freddie does finally pull away. 

You’re both breathing a bit heavier from the passion of the kiss, but you can’t help but tease him and say, “See? You’re _very_ good at taking my breath away.”

Freddie throws his head back and laughs loudly, a full-body laugh that jostles you where you’re curled up next to him. Not that you mind, though. You always love seeing Freddie this happy and relaxed. 

“You’re ridiculous, darling,” he says fondly, still chuckling a little and shaking his head in amusement. “Absolutely ridiculous!”

“You love it, though,” you say, smiling sweetly at him. 

“Of course I do,” he agrees without hesitation. “And more importantly, I love _you_ , my dear, and I can’t wait to spoil you rotten on our anniversary.”

The anniversary. The reminder makes your stomach twist uncomfortably with nerves, but you know you have to tell Freddie about your own plans before you chicken out so you clear your throat and say, “Actually, I made plans for our anniversary too. Well, a few days before, anyway. Can you clear your schedule-?”

“Yes,” Freddie says before you can even finish speaking, and you can’t help but laugh. 

“I didn’t even tell you what day to clear!” you point out. 

“I don’t care,” Freddie says. “I’ll clear the whole week for you if you ask me to. Just tell me where to be and what to wear, darling, and I’ll be there!” His eyes are bright with excitement and you can only hope that your plans don’t disappoint him in the end. 

“Two days before our anniversary,” you tell him, because you know you won’t be able to go through with this after Freddie brings out the big guns with his own plans. “And just wear something comfortable. I’ll pick you up here around 8pm, alright?”

“Sounds perfect,” Freddie says, and even though you haven’t really told him anything about what you’re planning he’s beaming as if you’ve already given him the best gift in the world. 

After that, it feels like the weeks go by in the blink of an eye and the day of your anniversary plans arrives sooner than you would like. Even though you’re not picking up Freddie until later it takes most of the day for you to get everything ready, and you’re still not convinced that you haven’t forgotten something by the time you finally drive over to Garden Lodge.

Despite Freddie’s penchant for running late to interviews, band rehearsals, and frankly anything he considers not worth his time, he’s actually already waiting for you when you pull up. He’s practically bouncing on his heels in excitement, though he does do a double-take when he sees the old pickup truck that you’ve borrowed for the evening. It’s a far cry from the limos and Rollers that he’s usually driven around in, but you remember what Deaky said about not needing to do anything fancy and try to quash your nerves as Freddie climbs into the passenger’s seat. 

“Well this is unexpected,” he says, a little teasingly, though he is looking around the truck with what seems to be genuine interest. He cranes his neck and peers into the bed of the truck, and pouts when he sees that there’s a large tarp tied down that covers anything that might be back there. “What’s all that then, lovie?” he asks, twisting around to try and get a better look- not that there’s anything for him to see, you made sure of that. 

“Part of the surprise,” you say. He huffs and sits back down normally with a bit of an exaggerated flounce that you can’t help but laugh at. You lean over and kiss him, just a quick peck, because you do have plans and you can’t get distracted by making out with your boyfriend now.

“I see you managed to _mostly_ listen when I told you to dress comfortably,” you say, giving Freddie a pointed up-and-down look. 

Freddie laughs and strikes a pose, which is somewhat limited by the fact that he’s sitting in a vehicle at the moment and not standing front and center on a stadium stage. You had expected him to wear jeans and a t-shirt but Freddie, never one to do what people expect of him, went a slightly different route. He’s still wearing a white t-shirt but he’s paired it with dark leather trousers- not his stage wear, but they’re still sinfully tight and it’s enough to make your mouth go dry with want. It also doesn’t help that he’s wearing a leather jacket as well to round out the outfit, because he _knows_ how much you love his leather jackets. 

“You look good, though,” you tell him as you pull out of Garden Lodge and start weaving your way out of town. “Trying to seduce me, Mr. Mercury?”

“That depends,” Freddie says with a sly grin. “Is it working?” You laugh and shove at him gently, and Freddie retaliates by capturing your hand in his, twining his fingers with yours and rubbing his thumb gently along the back of your hand. “You look good too, you know,” he tells you. “And I’m excited to _finally_ see what surprises you have planned!”

You take your eyes off the road to smile at Freddie, your chest growing warm with affection at the sincerity in his words. “I just hope you aren’t disappointed,” you admit. “I think you’ll like it, but…”

Freddie raises your clasped hands and presses a gentle kiss to the back of your hand. “Darling, I get to spend a lovely evening with you. Whatever else you have in store I’m sure I’ll love it.”

You swallow back an overwhelming wave of emotion and fondness, and even though you have to look back at the road to keep driving you tell Freddie, “I love you. So much.”

“And I love you, dear,” Freddie says. “More than words can describe.”

After that, most of your anxiety disappears. It’s about an hour’s drive to where you’re taking Freddie- a fact which he pouts about when you tell him, though you know he’s not truly bothered- and you spend the time chatting about anything and everything under the sun: The band’s new album, which is still under production, the health and antics of each of Freddie’s cats, and some of the more colorful characters you encountered at your own job. 

“Alright, we’re only about ten minutes away now,” you say when you finally pull off the highway and onto a small country road. “Do you trust me, Freddie?”

“That’s a bit of an ominous thing to ask when you’ve driven me so far from civilization,” Freddie jokes. “But yes, dear, of course I do!”

You reach down into the center console and pull out a piece of black fabric- a blindfold, which Freddie recognizes immediately. “Put it on?” you ask him, as you hand it over. “I really want this to be a surprise.”

Freddie hesitates, but only for a moment. “Well this is certainly kinky,” he teases, but he does tie the blindfold around his eyes. You immediately dive back into the easy-going discussion of new music that the two of you had been in the middle of to help put Freddie at ease. It seems to work, too; after a minute you notice him starting to relax and by the time you reach your destination he’s laughing and seems to be enjoying himself once again. 

“Alright, this is it,” you say as you turn off the engine, and immediately Freddie reaches up towards the blindfold. You grab his hands, and give them a gentle squeeze, and tell him, “Give me five minutes to get things set up first, please?”

Freddie nods and settles back down, and you can’t resist giving him a quick peck on the cheek in thanks before you climb out of the truck and begin your final preparations. 

The small, isolated park is as perfect as Brian promised it would be and looks absolutely perfect for the evening you have planned. And you’re very thankful that it’s a clear night- with the headlights off and your eyes starting to adjust to the dark you can see the stars glittering overhead as you untie the tarp and carefully pull it away. 

You had gotten things arranged in the bed of the truck before setting off, and luckily most of it stayed in place. It takes only a few minutes to rearrange some of the pillows, set up the picnic basket and bottle of wine, and light a few small citronella candles on the roof of the truck to keep the bugs away. A small, electric lantern is your only other light, and as you scrutinize the scene you have to admit that you’re proud of what you managed to accomplish here. 

You’re just hoping that Freddie finds it as charming as you do. 

You grab the flowers that you bought and round the truck, opening the passenger’s side door and saying, “Okay, you can take off-”

That’s as far as you get before Freddie reaches up to pull off the blindfold. He doesn’t bother to untie it first and it musses up his hair as he pulls it over his head. You reach out to gently smooth his hair back into place- Freddie doesn’t even seem to notice, as he’s immediately distracted by the bouquet of wildflowers that you’re holding in front of him. 

“Darling,” he breathes as you pass the flowers over to him. He inhales deeply, letting out a contented sigh, and smiles happily at you. “Oh, they’re absolutely beautiful! And they smell lovely!”

You smile back at him, and offer him a hand to help him down from the truck. “I’m glad you like them. I couldn’t afford roses on top of the food, but I thought those were pretty enough instead.”

“Food?” Freddie looks around at the dark park, clearly wondering what you’re talking about. There’s no people, no buildings, nothing around at all. It isn’t until you lead Freddie to the back of the truck that the pieces of the puzzle finally fall into place, and he lets go of your hand in shock. “Oh, Y/N…”

You’ve converted the bed of the truck into your own cozy, little nook. Soft blankets and pillows cover the base, and you’ve piled even more pillows against the back of the cab for the two of you to lean against. The dim light from the lantern and the candles casts everything in a warm, golden glow. In the center is the picnic basket that you spent ages packing, and the bottle of wine that you carefully picked out, as well as a small radio that you flick on, letting quiet classical music drift over the two of you. 

“I knew I couldn’t compete with whatever lavish plans you made, so I thought… Dinner and stargazing? Just the two of us, with no worries about fans or paparazzi finding us…” You bite your lip, suddenly worried by Freddie’s silence. “Do you… do you like it?”

“Like it?” Freddie turns to face you and he’s positively _beaming_ , so happy that it almost seems like he could burst from it. “Darling, I _love_ it. I can’t remember the last time someone did anything half as thoughtful as this for me.” He leans in and kisses you, and when he pulls back there are tears glittering in the corners of his eyes, though he’s still smiling brightly at you. “Thank you, dear. _Thank you_.”

You reach up to gently wipe the tears away, and Freddie captures your hand and presses a gentle kiss to your fingers, your palm, your wrist. He doesn’t seem to want to let go of you now and you laugh as he keeps pressing delicate kisses to your skin. “I’m so glad you like it,” you tell him. “I was so worried that it would be too silly.”

“I love it because it’s a bit silly,” Freddie says. “I love it because it’s not another Michelin-star restaurant dinner, or a decoration that I’ll have to find somewhere to display, or clothes I’ll probably never wear anyway. It’s unique, and thoughtful, and- and-” He kisses you again in lieu of coming up with more adjectives, but you can feel everything he doesn’t say in the hot press of his lips against yours.

“I love you, Freddie,” you breathe against his lips between kisses, you hands drifting down his hips to tease along the waistband of his leather trousers, “but if you keep this up we’re never going to actually make it to the bed of the truck.”

“Nonsense,” Freddie says. “If we keep this up we’d _have_ to get up there, because I’m not having sex against the truck or on the ground.” You can’t help yourself and you burst out laughing at Freddie’s comment. He just grins at you, broad and beautiful. It’s moments like this, full of both tenderness and Freddie’s wicked sense of humor, that remind you just how much you love this man- and how lucky you are to have him in your life. 

“Come on, let’s eat before we get too carried away,” you say. Freddie still doesn’t want to let go of you and you laugh as you try to climb into the back of the truck while still holding onto his hand. You manage it, somehow, and it’s easy to help Freddie up as well from there. 

The two of you settle in near the back of the truck, snuggled so close together that Freddie is practically sitting in your lap. You open the picnic basket and begin pulling out small containers of food- stuffed dates, cheese, fruit, small finger sandwiches… simple, romantic foods that you knew would travel well. 

While you organize everything Freddie gently sets his bouquet of flowers aside and opens the bottle of wine. It doesn’t take him long to find the glasses you carefully packed, and he pours each of you a drink. “To you, my darling,” he toasts, “and to this _fabulous_ evening you’ve arranged for us.”

“To you, Freddie,” you tell him as you clink your glass against his. “I love you so much, and I hope we can have _decades_ of anniversaries like this one.”

Freddie kisses you again, but he keeps it quick and chaste this time and turns his attention to the foods you brought along. He picks up a strawberry and holds it up to your mouth and you laugh, but take a bite out of it anyway. If that’s how Freddie wants to do this, well, you’re certainly not going to complain. 

You take turns feeding each other small bites of food, sampling everything as the two of you enjoy each other’s company and the easy conversation that always seems to flow between you. One glass of wine turns into two, and Freddie pours each of you a third to finish off the bottle as you snag the last cherry and pop it into your mouth before burrowing closer to Freddie to leech some of his body heat. 

The temperature had dropped considerably since you first got here and, although you thought you’d be fine with your dress shirt and the athletic compression shirt that you always wore to bind your chest, you find yourself shivering slightly in the cool night air. That doesn’t go unnoticed by Freddie, who immediately starts to shrug off his jacket, dislodging you in the process. 

“No, no, I’m fine, please don’t-” You huff as Freddie drapes the jacket over your shoulders, completely ignoring your protests. “There are extra blankets, you know, I could’ve just grabbed one of those.”

“Maybe I just like seeing you in my clothes,” Freddie says. You shiver again, but this time it has nothing to do with the chill in the air. “Although,” he continues, with a bit of a wicked smirk, “for all the fuss you gave me about dressing comfortably, I can’t believe you forgot to bring a jacket!”

“I didn’t forget, I just didn’t think I’d need it.” You tug at the collar of your button down shirt, exposing just the edge of the compression shirt. “I’m usually too warm, remember?”

Freddie rolls his eyes, but when he smiles at you it’s a bit softer and he admits, “I forgot about that. I’m sorry, dear.”

“No need to apologize.” Freddie has always been wonderful to you, never treating you like less of a man and always quick to offer comfort and reassurances when your dysphoria is at its worse. Still, you’re not above poking fun at his chivalrous streak and you can’t help but tease, “Though, if you start shivering now I’m not giving your jacket back. I don’t care how cold you get, it’s mine now.”

“Keep it, then. It looks _very_ good on you,” Freddie says as he grabs one of the spare blankets and wraps it around both of your shoulders. 

Your eyes narrow in suspicion, because despite his attempt to distract you with a compliment you’re pretty sure that Freddie just gave you this jacket to actually keep forever, which was not the point of your comment at all. 

Before you can say anything, though, Freddie dims the lantern slightly and looks up at the night sky. “So,” he says. “How good are you at stargazing anyway?”

“Very good,” you tell him. When Freddie looks down at you in surprise you grin at him and motion to the sky, saying, “Those are the stars, and I think you’ll find that it’s remarkably easy to lie here and gaze at them.”

Freddie swats at your shoulder, though he’s laughing as he says, “That’s not what I meant at all!” You can see his teeth gleaming even in the dim light and he doesn’t seem to be in a rush to cover them, either with his hand or his lips. It makes your heart flutter to know that Freddie trusts you enough to not hide any part of himself from you. 

“I’m not very good at identifying the stars,” you finally admit. You had been worried, at first, that Freddie would find the idea of stargazing particularly stupid, but you’re both relaxed from the dinner and the wine and he’s still staring up at the sky with a look of contentment on his face. “I know Ursa Major-” you point to the cluster of bright stars that are the easiest to identify, and trace your fingers out along the dimmer points at the ends of the constellation. “-and I know Ursa Minor is just north of that… but that’s all I’ve got.”

“Well, luckily for us, I know a few more.” Freddie points up at the sky, his side of the blanket slipping down from around his shoulders. “Virgo is right there, do you see it? That bright star towards the south is the corner of one of the boxes, and then the four arms… and just to the right of it, that’s Leo. Looks more like a swan than a lion, but I suppose no one asked for my opinion when they were naming these things.”

He laughs again, and even though you can’t quite make out the constellations that he’s pointing at you still smile, because Freddie looks so eager to be sharing this knowledge with you. “And Cancer, that’s just to the right of Leo, sort of to the side of your Ursa Major. Do you see it, Y/N? It looks a bit like a lopsided X. And Mars is that tiny red dot to the north of that…”

“How do you know all of these?” you ask, instead of answering Freddie’s question because, truthfully, you can’t see any of those constellations. But you don’t need to see them when you can see the happiness in Freddie’s eyes instead.

“Oh, Brian showed them to us ages ago,” Freddie says. “Back when the band first got together, before our first album even, we’d drive up and down the country in this ancient van to go to gigs, and whenever it broke down and we found ourselves stranded until it we could get it back up and running again Brian would talk about the stars. Had to put that astrophysics degree to use somehow, I suppose.” He laughs at his own joke and continues, “I’m not sure how much the others listened but he pointed out our zodiac constellations and some of the planets and, well, I guess I’ve just managed to hold onto some of that over the years.”

Freddie tells his story so casually, like it’s no big deal that he can recall these bits of trivia told to him over a decade ago now, like it doesn’t mean the absolute world to the people in his life that he cares enough to remember things like this. For all that Freddie is confident in his ability as a performer and a rockstar, you know that his real strength is in how much he cares about those he holds close. 

“You’re amazing, you know that?” you tell him as you snuggle closer to him. 

He wraps the blanket a little tighter around your shoulders, and presses a soft kiss to your temple. “ _You’re_ amazing, my dear. Planning this whole thing, arranging the food and this space in the truck… All I do is throw money at people, but what you’ve done here is incredible.”

You shake your head and turn to look at him. He’s still staring at the stars and you gently reach out to cup the side of his face, to make sure he’s looking at you properly when you firmly say, “You are amazing, Freddie Mercury. I’ve never met someone half as caring and thoughtful as you are. You use your money to help others and make people happy. That’s not something to be so dismissive about.”

“Well,” Freddie says, but doesn’t seem to have anything else to say in response to your little impassioned speech.

You smile, and lean in to kiss him again. It feels like you’ve spent half the evening kissing Freddie and you don’t even care; you’d spend the rest of your life kissing him if you could. He makes a soft noise and presses closer to you, reaching out to grab the front of your shirt, and it is taking every ounce of willpower that you didn’t know you had to stop yourself from undressing him right then and there. 

You want Freddie, you want to be as close to him as possible, to bury yourself under his skin and into his life and never leave. Every time you think you’ve gone too far, that you’ve pushed for too much, Freddie turns around and pulls you even closer. And every time you doubt yourself or doubt your place in Freddie’s life, he’s there refusing to let you leave and offering up whatever reassurances you need with both his actions and his words. 

Freddie lets out a little huff of laughter, his breath hot against your lips. “Look at us, making out like two teenagers. If we weren’t technically in a public park…”

His voice trails off and he doesn’t finish that thought, but he doesn’t have to. You know what he’s thinking because it’s the same thing you’re thinking. “We can always go home, if that’s what you want.”

To your surprise, though, Freddie shakes his head. “No, no, I don’t want to call an end to our lovely evening just yet. Dessert will just have to wait.” 

The joke is terrible but you laugh at it anyway as you settle back against Freddie’s side and he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “There’s cupcakes in the picnic basket still if you want an actual dessert.”

“Mm, in a bit, darling,” Freddie says. “Right now, I just want to keep looking at the stars with you.”

And you, of course, have no objections to that. You’re over-the-moon in love with Freddie Mercury, after all, and the best part is that you know Freddie is right there with you.


End file.
